


Lays

by ishybishy



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Slipknot as Kink, Soulmates Meeting In A Parallel Universe Except Only One Of Them Knows It IF you squint, Thirstiest Cashier In Modern Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishybishy/pseuds/ishybishy
Summary: “Hey, do you only have Ruffles?”Tyler sighs.





	1. Slipknot

* * *

 

“Hey, do you only have Ruffles?”

Tyler sighs. “We only have what’s on the shelves.” He says, staring at some model’s bulge shot on Instagram. 

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

There’s a pause, but Tyler doesn’t hear the guy’s steps, so he sighs, again, and steels himself for the inevitable, “Can’t you—can’t you see in the back?”

 _God_. Tyler’s manager is right. The general public is impervious to basic fucking English. Whatever impervious means.

“No, I can’t, because—” He looks up, and forgets words for a second. The dude’s looking at him expectantly. He’s wearing a Slipknot shirt that’s ripped at the collar. Badly ripped, too, like he did it himself. “Uh, we. We have the same products in store that we have in the back.”

The guy’s face falls. It’s kind of an intense reaction to have about chips.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry.” Slipknot mutters, and walks away.

Tyler watches him go, dumbfounded, half at his own behavior, half at the stark contrast between the guy’s voice and his appearance. He stops in front of the chips, probably not for the first time, and picks up a bag, then puts it back—and picks it up, again. Tyler opens his phone’s front camera and tries to discretely check his hair. He’s glad he decided to let it grow past his ears. Slipknot seems like the type to prefer twinkish.

The gas station’s empty other than them. There’s only one car outside, a beat up Ford van that looks like it’s seen better days. Maybe Slipknot’s in a Slipknot tribute band. Tyler bites his lip. That’d be hot.

“Hey.” he calls. Slipknot jumps on his toes, like he’s nervous, which is sort of weird but Tyler decides to file it under _cute_.

“Yes?”

“That your van?”

The guy looks outside. He nods. “Yeah.”

“Nice, man.” Tyler quips, even though it isn’t. Slipknot glances at his van, again, and seems to think the same. He’s got some interesting ink in his arms. His jeans don’t do him any favors, but Tyler would bet there’s surprises to find in there, too.

“It’s—it’s kind of old.” Slipknot mumbles. Tyler barely hears him. The way the guy’s holding his bag of chips, with both hands, rocking on his heels a little—it’s really fucking doing it for Tyler. He’s so fucking tall.

“So you’re in a band, or what?”

“A band?” Slipknot honest to God giggles. It makes his whole face change. Tyler didn’t really think he was all that pretty but… just like that, he is. “No, no.”

“You have the look for it, man.” Tyler leans forward on his elbows and flashes him his best _Poundtown, population: me and your dick_ smile. His work attire is an awful white button up with black pants, but he’s had the shirt unbuttoned since around ten pm, which still isn’t ideal but at least shows something. Slipknot seems a little red, but then again he comes off like the type to blush over fucking anything.

“Oh. Really?”

That’s an in if Tyler’s ever heard one. “Yeah, you know, like. You could totally be a drummer. You’ve got the big arms, bad beard, bad hair.” He drawls.

The guy holds Tyler’s stare for a moment, blinks, and then laughs. Actually laughs, this time, loud and goosy. Maybe Tyler’s barking up the wrong tree here. There’s no shame in it, he just didn’t want to finish a five hour shift getting mocked by a straight dude. He straightens himself and tries to act unbothered. Slipknot stops laughing when he sees Tyler cross his arms. “Sorry, sorry.” He lowers his voice, but Tyler still catches a quiet, “Same shit.”

Wait. “What?”

Slipknot walks up to him and sets the chips on the counter, smiling sheepishly. He’s not making eye contact anymore. “Nothing. It’s pump 3, fifty bucks.”

Tyler looks at him, really looks at him, and tries his hardest to place his face, but his mind comes up blank. It doesn’t make any sense. The guy’s not the handsomest motherfucker to walk the planet, sure, but he is striking, and Tyler was into him from the moment he laid eyes on him. You wouldn’t forget someone like that. Especially if they met, which apparently they did. “What do you mean, _same shit_? Have we met before?”

“No.”

“But you said—”

“You don’t know me.” Slipknot interrupts.

“O—kay.” Tyler says, carefully. The guy sighs, and deflates just as quickly as he’d gotten mad.

“Sorry. Just, pump 3, please.” 

Tyler rings his chips, and then his gas. Slipknot pays with card. The silence feels too fucking heavy for a simple awkward mistake. Tyler hands him his receipt, but thinks better of it at the last second and snatches it back before Slipknot can grab it.

“No. C’mon. Where do I know you from?” he asks.

“Nowhere—”

“ _Bullshit_. Look, was it a bar? A club? That dump near the docks that banned me for—”

“No! Just drop it, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

That irks Tyler for some reason. “I’m telling you it does matter, so just tell me—”

“Fucking drop it, Segs, _fuck_!” Slipknot yells, and Tyler’s so surprised he lets him yank the receipt out of his hand. He only reacts when he hears the door’s bell ring as Slipknot slams it behind him. Tyler jumps over the cashier, breaking into probably the fastest fucking sprint of his life. A hundred people could come out and rob the entire gas station, pumps and all, and he wouldn’t give a shit.

“Wait! Wait a fucking second!” Tyler screams. Slipknot’s surprisingly light on his toes for a guy his size.  

Slipknot reaches his van first, keys already out, and Tyler blames panic and adrenaline for the way he can’t think of anything else to do but body slam the guy against the van’s door.  He hears Slipknot let out of an “ _oof_ ”, and feels hands grab his shoulders to steady him. The bag of Ruffles falls to the floor and goes off like a fucking hydrogen bomb when Tyler accidentally steps on it, chips shooting everywhere.

They both look down at the mess, and then at each other. A moment passes. Tyler points an accusing finger right in Slipknot’s face.

“S—spill.” He pants out.

“It doesn’t matter.” The guy says. His hands are heavy on Tyler’s skin. Tyler has to look up at him, which is unusual enough to make his stomach flutter. It’s a fucking weird situation, and maybe Tyler’s dealing with a creep of some sort, or a stalker, even, but it doesn’t—it doesn’t _feel_ that way. Tyler can’t explain it with logic. There’s a voice in the back of his head yelling at him to _not let this motherfucker go_ , and he’s going to listen to it.

“Oh my God, man, enough with that already. You owe me an explanation. How do you know my name?”

Slipknot’s eyes dart around nervously. He drums his fingers on TyIer’s shoulders, squeezes them for a second. “I—I read your tag?”

Tyler blinks. “Oh, right.” He looks down at his chest, and hears Slipknot sigh. His tag says _Tyler_ not _Segs_. “Fuck off, man!” Tyler sputters, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment. The corners of the guy’s mouth turn up, almost like he can’t help it. It’s a different smile. It’s exasperated, yet fond. It’s not a smile you'd give a stranger. Tyler wraps his hands around the guy’s arms and pulls himself impossibly closer. Slipknot lets him.

When Tyler licks his lips, he follows the motion like a fucking hawk. It’s the only encouragement Tyler needs. He looks up through his eyelashes. “I feel like I know you.”

“Do you like hockey?” Slipknot asks out of nowhere.

“What? No, I only watch lacros—”

Slipknot kisses him quiet. Straight in the mouth, head tilted perfectly. Tyler exhales a breath through his nose he didn’t know he was holding. There’s a hand in the back of his neck, a tongue against his, and Tyler’s never had a first kiss like this.

This isn’t their first kiss. It can’t be. The way their lips slide together, the sudden bite of teeth on his lower lip, exactly how Tyler wants it, when Tyler wants it... it all tastes so familiar yet so fucking exhilarating. Tyler moans, and holds onto the guy’s arms for dear life, because whoever the fuck this is, he’s kissing Tyler like he majored in it. They break apart for air, gasping loudly in the silence of the night.

“Holy shit.” Tyler sighs. He opens his eyes and is met with Slipknot’s face, inches away from his. He looks like he’s in pain.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” He says, and pushes Tyler away. Tyler’s still blissed out enough that it completely catches him off guard, and he stumbles back shakily, tripping over his own feet. The guy’s already escaped inside his van and started the ignition by the time Tyler’s left screaming, “What the _fuck_?” at his window shield. He manages two kicks in the van’s bumper before the guy drives around him and speeds out of the station.

“What the fuck.” Tyler repeats, to himself. He touches his mouth with his fingers, and immediately feels stupid for doing it. He stomps back to the store, trying and failing not to think about the weight of calloused hands he can still feel in the back of his neck, the beard burn on his lips and chin.

Tyler's shoes crush Ruffles under every step. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> edit: new playlist   
> https://8tracks.com/ishybishy


	2. Burrito

Jamie drives for thirty minutes before his anxiety goes _nope_ and he has to pull over the side of the road. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel. He should probably relax his hands, but the grip is grounding, somehow.

So, that was a thing. That was a thing that happened.

It’s not like it’s even that big of a deal, anyway. Jamie met the alternate version of someone he’s been thinking about for ten years. And then immediately stuck his tongue down that someone’s throat. As you do. Everything is fine and calm and he’s not gonna puke.

He’s gonna puke. Jamie barely gets the door open before he’s emptying the contents of his stomach on the ground. Dang it. It was such a good burrito, too.

He stays hunched over for a couple of seconds, trying to breathe. “Do you only have Ruffles?” He mocks in a high pitched voice. He leans back up in his seat and laughs. “Stupid.”

If nothing else, his paranoia made sure he brought a water bottle. Jamie chugs the entire thing in one go. He can still taste puke, but not as much. At least he stopped tasting Tyler.

That thought makes Jamie’s stomach drop again.

Tyler didn’t taste the same. He looked the same, maybe thinner, and he sounded the same, too. He didn’t kiss the same, either, but that didn’t seem to matter, because Jamie still knew how to kiss him. Instead of lean and weed, Tyler tasted like cigarettes and coffee. Like a bad indie song.

For years Jamie wondered what it would be like to meet him. He made up a thousand different scenarios in his head, and what happened managed to go unlike all of them.

Tyler isn’t Segs.

Just like Jamie isn’t captain of an American hockey team.

He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or not. He doesn’t know what he was hoping for when he walked into that gas station. He doesn’t why he kissed—

Jamie’s phone rings.

The ringtone sounds particularly aggressive, which means it’s probably Jenny. He glances at the screen and frowns. Yup, it is. He takes a deep breath, then another, then another, and taps the green button.

“He—”

“Where the hell are you?” There’s some shuffling, and Jamie hears her squeak out a ‘ _hey_!’

“Bro, Jenny’s gonna get promoted to favorite child again if you don’t get in here before midnight.” Jordie says. Jenny’s yelling in the background, kind of muffled, like Jordie’s got a hand on her face.

“I—that’s okay?”

Jordie scoffs. “No, it’s not _okay_ , she’s fucking unbearable when she’s the favorite chi— _ow_! Did you just bite me?”

More shuffling, some screaming. Jamie patiently waits. He turns on the heat and puts his phone between his ear and shoulder to rub his hands together. The line goes quieter, and soon enough he hears Jenny’s voice again. She sounds out of breath.

“Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

“Look, mom’s freaking out about your suit measurements.” Jamie opens his mouth to say he brought his own suit, but thinks better of it. Jenny pauses for a second. “You’re still coming tonight, right? I swear to God.”

“I am! I’m on my way, sorry, I’m a little late.”

“You’re a _week late_.”

Sheesh. He hears Jordie call _“bridezilla alert”_ , and tries not to laugh when it’s immediately followed by a “ _ow_ ”. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be right over. Half an hour, tops.”

“It better be tops. Wait, are you driving right now? You can’t be on your phone!”

“No, no, I had to make a stop, I was, uh—sick.” Jamie blabbers, and quickly adds, “But I’m fine now! Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

Another pause. This one is longer. “You’re not fine.” Jenny says. Jamie sighs.

“Not really. Don’t worry about it, though.”

“Yeah, _eff_ you, little brother. Just come home, okay? We’ll talk.” Jamie sighs again. They definitely will. There is exactly one person in the entire world that knows about Tyler and she’s currently frowning on the other end of the line. Jamie still can’t believe Jenny’s getting married. He shared spit with his soulmate and his sister is getting married. It’s too much. “ _Fats_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m going.”

Jenny hums. “Okay. Drive safe. If you get into an accident the day before my wedding I’m never speaking to you again.”

That makes Jamie laugh. “Cool.” She clicks her tongue, and hangs up. 

 _Sheesh_.

Jamie throws his phone into the passenger seat and starts the ignition. He drags his hands through the old scratchy leather of the steering wheel. It makes him think about how smooth Tyler’s skin felt.

The other Tyler had a beard, and he was obsessed with keeping it a certain way. Jamie remembers how much the other Jamie liked watching him wash it, trim it. He always pulled this cute little frown in the mirror while doing it, trying to reach all the places.

This Tyler barely had a nine o’ clock shadow.

“Stop it.” Jamie orders himself, and feels a wave of _dejavú_ hit when he drives out of the side of the road and into the freeway, this time for good.

They’ll never see each other again, Jamie thinks, not if he can help it. Unless Tyler called the police on him or something. Admittedly, that’s more of a paranoia-possibility than a real-life-possibility, but still. Jamie _did_ walk in there, called him by a nickname, kissed him and left. He also made Tyler pop a bag of chips all over the ground, which he feels kind of bad about, because Tyler might have to clean it.

He got so angry after Jamie pushed him off. Jamie hasn’t checked the van’s bumper, but it’s probably dented. It’s reasonable. Anyone would react that way if a stranger kissed them and then just left. Well, no. Most people wouldn’t kiss him back in the first place. And Tyler kissed him back.

That’s another thing that’s different. The other Tyler didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what i'm doing lmao but you guys were so sweet i had to continue this shit. who's ready for sum ''i'm sorry i'm not him'' angst  
> also is the alternate povs thing a good idea ? please fucking talk to me i'm not joking i want to do this right for you dumbos


	3. Beautiful Mind Shit (part A)

So maybe this is illegal, who gives a fuck. It’s a perfectly valid and reasonable thing to do. Actually, Tyler would argue that it’d be less normal _not_ to look up the license plate of someone who caused him like, emotional damage at his own workplace. Tyler might even be entitled to financial compensation. He was physically manhandled by a total stranger.

Sure, the manhandling was consensual and the stranger wasn’t really a stranger, apparently. Whatever, that’s not the fucking point.

The point is: Tyler wants to hunt down Slipknot and Stephen suddenly decided to become the most ethical cop on the planet.

“Did you even get permission to access the security camera feed?” He asks, chewing his gum slowly. Tyler clicks his tongue.

“Uh, I _work_ there.”

“So, no.”

“So, details.” Stephen stares at him evenly, and blows a gum balloon. Tyler opens his mouth to argue more, but Stephen pops it, and it makes Tyler jump. He glares. “C’mon, man, it’s one tiny, little license plate. This will take you less than a minute.” Tyler begs. The cop sitting next to Stephen quirks her eyebrow at him, and Tyler quirks one back.

“We meet, what, once every year, at Gemel’s party?” Stephen asks, more to himself than Tyler.

“Well, it’s the highlight of my year, personally.” Tyler smiles beatifically, and Stephen laughs, shaking his head. Progress. “Please? I’ll owe you like, five-ever.”

The other cop rolls her eyes. “That’s not a word.”

“That’s not ya business.” Tyler immediately fires back, momentarily forgetting that he’s leaning on the desk of a whole ass police station. The cop’s eye twitches, and he quickly adds, “Uh, ma’am, respectfully. Thank you for your service. ”

Come to think of it, she might have arrested him once. Stephen gets up, and Tyler grins hopefully at him until he realizes he’s not doing anything, just standing in front of Tyler, with his arms crossed over his chest and a slightly amused expression on his face. “Sorry, bro, unless you want to file a complaint of some sort I can’t really do shit.”

Tyler pouts. “Oh, c'mon, man, that’s such fucking—”

“ _Hey_.” The other cop cuts in, voice hard. Tyler quiets down like she pulled a gun on him. She sighs and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. “Did you say a Ford van? Like an old one, with them white doors?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“There’s a stand that still rents them, a couple of miles after the A1. Magic Wheels, or something. Maybe try asking there.” She says, and turns back to her computer in the most physical display of ‘ _fuck off, now’_ Tyler’s ever been subject to. He waggles his eyebrows at Stephen, who shrugs and walks off somewhere else, still slowly chewing at his gum. He doesn’t even wave goodbye.

And Tyler’s kindergarten teacher kept telling his mom he couldn’t just annoy people into doing what he wanted for the rest of his life. Guess what, Ms. Flores. Twenty one years and counting, you alphabet-obsessed dictator.

Tyler practically stomps out of the police station.

It’s been less than twenty four hours since _it_ happened and he’s going fucking crazy. No, but really, he's going insane.

Yesterday, he spent the remaining of his shift sweeping up the chips from the pavement so hard his fingers dented the brush handle. Again and again, his eyes kept looking around for that damn white van, but obviously it was gone forever. The girl who did the 11pm-04am shift arrived five minutes late and Tyler had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from yelling at her.

Today’s his day off, and what the fuck is he doing? Playing Finding Emo because some guy with bad facial hair called him _Segs_ and knew how to twist their tongues together.

It’d be funny if it weren’t so sad.

Truth to be told, there’s also something else pushing Tyler’s buttons. Something he can’t comprehend. Something that kept him awake most of the night, trashing around his bed, unable to relax. It’s mad at him, this something. It sounds like Tyler’s voice, but not quite like his _own_ voice. Barely different to be distinguishable. It’s not really a voice, either, it’s just—a constant stream of thoughts echoing around his head. _Don’t drop this_ , it keeps saying, _This is important. Go after him. Make it right._

He doesn’t want to touch this Beautiful Mind shit with a ten feet pole, but he will, at least for now, listen to it, even if it makes him feel weird. Make _what_ right? Tyler didn’t do anything wrong, at least not in this situation. He got kissed. He kissed back. None of it felt wrong.

Actually, it felt fucking perfect.

Tyler hops on his bike and shoves the helmet in his head, not even bothering to tighten the straps under his chin. He Googles ' _Magic Wheels Car Rental'_ on his phoneand prays he wasn’t just fed some bullshit to make him leave. (Wouldn't be the first time). 

He wasn’t. He’s never been to this particular rental, but he knows exactly where it is. It’s opposite to the tightest gay bar in a twenty mile radius. Tyler laughs like a maniac, shoving his phone in his back-pocket. He flips on the ignition and gives his shitty Honda a few pumps with the accelerator, just out of excitement. 

That’s got to be a sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ??????? there's a plot!!!!! i actually sat down and wrote the entire plot for this!!!!! holy shit!!!  
>  i know these updates are short as dick but i'll try to update as often as possible.  
> btw the next chapter will contain some intense jamie angst. ive been writing this almost as a crack fic but it does deal with some mental health issues like anxiety and self doubt. just a warning.  
> anyway, tysm for the kindness.  
> (and yes stephen johns is a cop ur welcome for the visual)


	4. Beautiful Mind Shit (Part B)

It was Jamie’s fourth birthday. 

His mom baked him a cake bigger than he was and invited roughly fifty people to gather around it and yell happy birthday at him. After he blew the candles, she asked him who got that very special first birthday cake slice and Jamie looked her dead in eye and said, “Tyler.”

The only Tyler present was a cousin of a cousin, who Jamie had never seen in his life. As the kid awkwardly reached for his slice, Jamie’s little face twisted like he was experiencing the wrath of God. _Wrong_ , he thought. He didn’t stop crying until Jordie grabbed Jen behind the neck and slam dunked her face first into their mother’s baked masterpiece.

That was the first time he mentioned Tyler. Of course, at the time, Tyler was just a name, devoid of any meaning.  

The visions started a couple of days after Jamie turned fifteen.

Until then, Tyler had developed into what was mostly an _idea_ of a person. Jamie would look at clothes in some store or listen to a certain song and think, “ _Tyler would like this._ ” or “ _Tyler thinks this singer sounds like a goat. We argued about it._ ”

It never scared Jamie how he seemed to simply know these things. It was like having an imaginary friend, except Jamie didn’t pretend to talk to him or anything like that.

Still, it _was_ weird, and Jamie had enough self-awareness to realize how it’d look to other people, so he kept Tyler to himself.

The first vision Jamie experienced was very strange.

Jamie was in the shower, flattening his hair up into a spike using Jen’s expensive conditioner, when suddenly—he wasn’t.

He was in another bigger, fancier shower, one of those modern ones with big glass doors. He was tall enough to be eye-to-eye with the shower head. Everything smelled like men’s cologne, sweet and salty all at once. This Jamie had tattoos, muscles, and his joints hurt as he rubbed body gel on his skin. He was older.

Jamie wasn’t scared. He knew, almost instantly, where he was. He was in the other place. The place where every thought he’d ever had about Tyler came from.

Just as he thought of Tyler, there had been a knock at the door. Tyler peeked his head through it, holding his phone’s speaker against his shoulder.

That was the first time Jamie saw what Tyler looked like.

“Hey.” He started. “The boys are coming over around eight, that okay?”

 _No_ , Jamie wanted to tell him, _it’s not fucking okay_. He didn’t know why, he just knew that Jamie was pissed, and growing even more so as he noticed how Tyler kept his gaze strictly on Jamie’s face. “Sure.” He spit out instead. His voice was lower, raspier.

“Cool.” Tyler said. His smile faltered.

“Cool.”

Jamie stared back at the shower head as he heard the door click back closed. He began feeling something akin to static between his ears, pooling through his entire head. He blinked, once, twice—

—when he opened his eyes again, he was back in his family’s bathroom, surrounded by Ninja Turtle shampoos and Herbal Essences conditioner. His fingers were moving through his hair, and he was humming quietly to himself. It was as if he’d never left at all. Maybe because he hadn’t.

That was the first vision of thousands.

The visions always had to do with what he was doing at that moment, like something in his environment triggered a particular memory. They didn’t last for longer than a couple seconds, and didn’t interfere with his life beyond making him seem more spaced out than usual. In one way or another, Tyler was always a part of them.  

Slowly but surely, Jamie got acquainted with an entire Universe besides his own. He got acquainted with his other self, a hockey player, a _captain_ , someone who was infinitely cooler and better put together than Jamie could ever hope to be.

The other Jamie made Jamie feel like a failure. Jamie practiced his ‘ _here’_ in his head during attendance call and the other one was leading a team in a major sports league. His mom wouldn’t worry so much if Jamie was more like the other Jamie. She wouldn’t have to come home to find Jamie wheezing on the couch like he was having a heart attack.

It was difficult, going through so much doubt every single day.

But Tyler was worth all that.

Segs was like coming home. Whenever Jamie saw Tyler in his visions he felt like he’d found that missing piece of the puzzle. Even just thinking about him gave Jamie peace like no amount of Paxil could provide.

Tyler was his center, both in hockey and in life. Tyler was his soulmate. Jamie knew that the same way he knew two plus two is four.

The more he got to know Tyler through the eyes of the other Jamie, the more he felt like the other Jamie didn’t know how to appreciate him. Tyler was his _soulmate_ , and the other Jamie had the chance to be around him, at all times, and he acted like an idiot.

It wasn’t fair. Jamie was alone in this Universe. There was no Tyler here. All he had were limited sneak peeks of what he could’ve had, had he been born in the right Universe.

The day he told Jen about Tyler was the day his first girlfriend broke up with him. He was eighteen. It wasn’t a particularly dramatic break up. Nothing in Jamie’s life was ever as dramatic as the other parallel life he lived.

Katie said all the right things. She said he wasn’t there for her. She said he always looked like he was making an effort to be with her. She said she didn’t deserve that. Jamie agreed, and agreed, and agreed. He told her he was sorry, and she said it didn’t matter. It probably didn’t, to her, but it did to him.

Jamie was eighteen but he knew by then that his relationships would always end up like that.

It wasn’t _fair_.

He went home after band practice and smashed his guitar against the pavement the minute he stepped outside of his car. When he looked up, already panicking, Jen was sitting on the porch, smoking, and Jamie knew the instant their eyes met that it was time to tell someone.

At least it was her and not Jordie. Jordie wouldn’t believe him, and he wouldn’t understand. Jen might not believe him, but she’d try to understand.

And she did. She tried to understand. They sat on the porch, sharing a blunt because she was trying to cut back and Jamie just wanted something to do with his hands. Her expression turned scared once he mentioned _visions_ , and she held hand his hand so tightly it cut off his circulation.

“You’re loved, you know that? There’s no better you than the you you are.” Jen whispered. Jamie swallowed around a cloud of smoke.

“It’s not like that. I’m not schizophrenic.”

Jen gave him a sad smile. Then her expression turned a little lighter. “So, hockey, uh? Bold of you to assume mom would ever let _any_ of us on ice. Jordie can barely walk on solid ground.”

Jamie laughed, eternally grateful when she ignored the few tears falling down his cheeks.

They left it at that. No team of doctors wearing overalls came by to put him in a straitjacket and throw him inside a room with stuffed walls. Jen kept her promise, and didn’t tell anyone else, not even their mom.

Life went on.

Jamie decided college wasn’t for him and started doing odd jobs here and there. His visions didn’t stop. At some point, he quit dating altogether, because it hurt too much to pretend he wanted anyone but the man he couldn’t get. Jamie had gotten used to living a sort-of double life, but his perspective of it grew sour.

The happy feelings Segs gave him were quickly replaced by resentment. He resented his other self and he resented Tyler. He resented his visions. He resented his knowledge.

Resentment and anxiety became the two ends of the scope of emotion he’d go through in a day. He was never one to have a lot of friends, but his circle got so little it was a dot: his family and his housemate Brett, who did underground fighting for a living and also had a palmistry obsession. He always insisted on reading Jamie’s palm and act horrified by whatever he saw, every single time.

That was it.

What used to be the best part of his days turned into something else he had to power through. Maybe because of his own state of mind, his visions were all negative. Either arguments or stuttered conversations. The other Jamie and Tyler were fighting. Their interactions were almost painful to observe.

There was a break in the sequence somewhere, something even Jamie wasn’t allowed to see, but in theory, he knew what it was: the other Jamie had kissed Tyler and Tyler had rejected him. That’s all he knew. Just _knowing_ was painful enough to hurt physically, some days. If nothing else, he was thankful the Universe was sparing him of seeing it.

Days succeed days, turned into weeks, months, years. It took Jamie so long to settle into his parody of normalcy, and when he finally thought he’d gotten the hang of it—

—he met Tyler. Tyler. His _Segs_ , in real life, flesh and bone, existing in the same reality as Jamie. He’s not a Universe away. He’s a fucking cashier at the gas station outside Jamie’s hometown.

It’s like a bad joke. Jamie had refused to search for Tyler’s name, he didn’t look him up anywhere, and then in the end, it’s like he was never meant to make the effort. It didn’t matter. He fucked it up, anyway.

Jamie’s twenty four years old, he met his soulmate, and he fucked it up.

He really should’ve learned how to skate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so its a filler. im sorry but i HAD to write a filler sooner or later or the plot would become too abstract. i took out some of the angst it initally had but its still pretty intense. im trying to keep it as realistic as possible (dont laugh omg) and anyone in jamies shoes would be pretty messed up.  
> next chap will have some tyler angst as well. is this an angst fic. i suck at tone development lmao.  
> ANYWAY tyssssm for all the love. can u guys tell i like writing this shit? i wrote this during my lunch break. i didnt even have lunch. how sad is that.  
> love to all


	5. 91

The only magic thing about Magic Wheels is how anyone’s able to find it.

Tyler parks his motorcycle in his usual spot next to Cockpit. The bar’s closed, which is normal at four pm, but Tyler’s still a little confused by the lack of drunk people covered in glitter stumbling in and out.

He allows himself five seconds of nostalgia for the last hook up he had in there, the classic toilet stall blowjob, with a guy that had the most platinum hair he’d ever seen in his life. Tyler tries to recall the actual blowjob, and his stomach turns cold.

Not just his stomach—his entire body shakes like he got dunked in ice.

“F—fuck.” He stutters, and takes out a cigarette. Weird temperature drop for September. He puts the cigarette in his mouth, the helmet under his arm and looks at the opposite side of the street.

According to Google Maps, Magic Wheels is right there. Tyler lights the cigarette, squints harder. There’s nothing there. It’s just a line of grey buildings. No car rental sign anywhere. He walks around for a while, trying to find number 19. Still nothing. Tyler briefly considers texting Stephen a couple of _words_ about lying police force officers when he notices Ben walking out of Cockpit, holding a couple of boxes in his arms.

Oh, bouncers know everything about the street they work at.

“Bish! Bish!” Tyler yells from the other side of the road. Ben stops, closes his eyes, and groans. He’s still groaning as Tyler runs over. “What’s up, big man? They’re making you work extra hours?” He asks.

“Hey, Tyler.” Ben sighs, adjusting his grip on the boxes. Tyler thinks Ben should be registered under construction equipment. Like, as a crane. “Yeah, you know how it is.”

“Sure do, sure do. You need any help?”

Ben smiles a little. “Nah, thanks, kid.”

Weird. Tyler looks up at him, and doesn’t feel anything at all, other than a slight twinge in his neck. Usually when he interacts with Ben there’s always an underlying thought of ' _He could probably hold me up against a wall and fuck me’_.

Now, though, the height difference is just that: slightly uncomfortable for his neck. No butterflies in the stomach, no sweaty palms. Slipknot is well shorter than Ben, and Tyler was batting his eyes up at him like he was the tallest man on Earth.

 _Weird_. He takes a long drag off his cigarette. “So, listen—”

“We’re not lifting your ban.” Ben interrupts, and Tyler chokes in a lungful of smoke, and coughs.

“I got fucking banned? _Again_?”

Ben stares at him for a second, and then frowns. “Oh, you’re not? Sorry, I just assumed.”  

“I mean, I apologized about the speaker and Manuel said it was covered by insurance so like…” he stops babbling once he notices the tired look Ben’s giving him. “I mean.” He gives three awkward chuckles. “So, do you know a placed called Magic Wheels?”

“Oh, for sure, it’s a _car rental_.”  

The way Ben says _car rental_ makes Tyler think it’s not a very good one. “Well, Google Maps says it’s here but I can’t find door 19.”

“That’s because it’s not door 19, it’s door 91. Rads is never gonna get that fixed.” Ben seems to be thinking to himself before he fully turns to Tyler, titling his head around the boxes to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you get arrested for trespassing or something last month?”

 _God_. Why the fuck are people always so condescending when they talk to him? It’s always about his mistakes. And it wasn’t even _conscious_ trespassing, Tyler really thought the asshole owned the yacht. Wait, who’s Rads?

“Who’s Rads?” Tyler asks. Ben sighs.

“Shop owner.”

Tyler drops the cigarette on the ground and steps on it with the heel of his shoe. “Thanks. Hey, I won’t hold you any longer.” He holds out a fist and Ben stares at him until Tyler is reminded of his occupied hands, and giggles. “Sorry.” Tyler bumps his arm and Ben snorts.

“Stay out of trouble, kid.”

Tyler smirks. “Aw, don’t worry about me, big boy, you'll see me again next Saturday.”

Ben’s slight smile disappears and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, looking forward to all the fights I’m gonna have to break up.” He kicks Tyler’s shins with his own boot, very lightly, but Tyler still yelps loudly, just to make him feel bad. “You know, it’s okay to flirt with single men, sometimes.”

“I flirt with single men all the time!”

“Tell me the last time you flirted with a single man.” Ben deadpans, and Tyler immediately opens his mouth to mention his encounter with Slipknot, but the words get stuck halfway through his throat. He doesn’t know if Slipknot’s single, actually.

He doesn’t know anything about the guy.

“Kid?”

Tyler fakes a laugh. “Yeah, uh, you’re right. What can I say? I like the drama.” He starts walking backwards and gives Ben a mock salute. “See you, boss.”

“See you, menace.” Ben says. Tyler turns around, walking faster, but still catches the “And start looking both ways before you cross the fucking street!” Ben calls out behind him. Tyler does as he’s told, swinging his body from side to side very pointedly, and then runs off to the end of the road. He puts his hands in his pockets, trying and failing not to feel like a sucker for the hundredth time that day.

 _It’s worth it_ , the odd voice quips again, _Don't let him go._

Damn, if his mom saw him chasing after a man like this she’d measure his temperature and check for brain damage. Tyler stops in front of door 91. He stares at the door number for a second too long before taking a peek inside.

There is indeed a car rental sign over the extremely generic _Magic Wheels_ metallic plate. Although there isn’t a single car, or van for that matter, parked in front of the place.

The store itself is occupied by one potted plant in the corner, two huge pictures of old Fiats hanging on the wall, a cabinet, a desk, and a guy sitting behind it who’s throwing Skittles into his mouth.

“Okay.” Tyler mutters. Maybe he should’ve like, blackmailed Ben into coming with him or something.

Channeling the same adrenaline punch that made him chase Slipknot to his van yesterday, Tyler opens the door.

The guy behind the desk misses his mouth by a couple of inches. They both watch the Skittle slide through the floor and come to a stop near the wall. Tyler looks up from the skittle, and finds the guy glaring at him.

“H—hi.” Tyler starts. The guy clicks his tongue.

“Yes. Hello. You lost?”

His accent is almost Hollywood Russian. This is a money launderer scheme for the Russian mob and Tyler’s going to die. “No, I’m looking for, uh.” Wait, who was that dude Ben mentioned? “… Rads?”

The guy brightens up like Tyler flipped a switch on his face. “That’s me! I’m Rads! Oh, so nice the name’s getting out. So, so nice.” He gets up and walks around the desk to violently shake Tyler’s hand. “Nice to meet you—”

“Tyler?”

“ _Tyler_!” Rads repeats. His smile gets impossibly bigger, all teeth and gums, and his other hand suddenly grabs Tyler’s shoulder to start shaking him there as well.

Oh, Tyler’s not just gonna die, Tyler’s gonna get tortured and eaten. Alive. “Yeah. So, I was actually—”

“You need car? I have all cars. All types. Motos too. Trucks. Buses. Not many buses, maybe under fifty, you see, we had sale. Everyone wanted bus.” Rads is still shaking him. Tyler blinks. He didn’t think that many words could be fit into a five second sentence, and yet. Rads narrows his eyes like he’s attempting to look through Tyler’s soul. “Tuning! You look like tuning boy, you like tuning? I have tuning vehicles, oh, so nice, you’ll cry when you see them.”

“V—van.” Tyler forces out, and Rads finally stops his shaking to look at him expectantly. “A… a friend recently bought one of yours. Or rented. I think he rented it. A Ford white van.” He pauses, and then decides to just fucking go for it. “License plate, uh, DSTX14? Maybe?”

Rads immediately throws up his hands. “Ah, of course, DSTX14. Jamie sent you.” Tyler’s heart hiccups. He feels his pulse ricochet from his wrists to the vein on his neck. “How very kind. He like his van? Say good things? He say it’s only for transport, well I didn’t give him most beautiful van, but I have other models, or I could paint—

Tyler inhales. “Jamie?” He breathes out.

“Yes. Only white van I rent this month was to Jamie. Your friend?”

It’s him. Tyler doesn’t need confirmation. He doesn’t know _how_ or _why_ he’s so sure, but it’s him. It’s _Jamie_. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s him.” His cheeks hurt from how big he’s smiling. He feels like he could take off Rads’ shady ass store and fly into the sky, powered by relief alone.

Now he knows _something_. He’s got something to hold on to. And it’s not just any something, it’s a name. Maybe even a full name, if he plays his cards right. God, Rads is already talking. 

“—so I was saying, Jamie only wanted cheap van, you know? Just cheap, to bring big thing to wedding, so I give him most basic van—”

If Tyler was flying, this is when he fucking crashes into the ground and splatters his brains everywhere. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Rads balks, clears his throat. “I don’t mean basic like it was bad van, there are _no_ bad vehicles in Magic Wheels, every vehicle is like my child—” He takes a step back as Tyler takes a step forward.

“He’s getting fucking _married_?”

“Yes, he said—” Rads blinks, once, twice. Then his entire face scrunches up like he’s feeling a tenth of Tyler’s pain. “Oh. I see. _Friend_."

Usually it's one step forward, two steps backward. Not one step forward, _legs shot off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um i think im overestimating my ability to write interesting scenes w/o the two mains but i kinda want you guys to be as desperate for them to be with each other as they are?  
> (+ you can take my unnecessary secondary stars characters out of my cold dead hands.  
> how did former veteran ben bishop end up as a gay bar doorman? where does rads keep all those buses? just normal fanfic questions~~)  
> as always, tysm for all the love. u guys are the fuckin best  
> (fic playlist: https://8tracks.com/ishybishy/lays)


	6. Titanic

Someone got married. Jamie’s having trouble realizing who it was. He’s wearing a custom suit that feels expensive even as he drags his hands up and down his thighs.

He hasn’t touched his salmon. Or the potatoes. He knows someone will eventually notice, and he also knows Jamie doesn’t care about that at the moment. He finishes the rest of his wine and signals a waiter for more.

The DJ’s playing that Titanic song. Jamie’s teammates are all on the dancefloor, drunkenly clinging to one another and trying to hit Celine’s range with their piss poor voices. Jamie snorts out a laugh and the old lady making him company at their otherwise empty table shushes him.

“Uh.” Jamie starts. She scoffs.

“Men should _feel_.” She declares, and Jamie slowly nods, biting down another laugh.

The boys continue their show, shadowed by pink and white lights. The DJ cuts the music sometimes and their terrible singing echoes through the room, followed by overall laughter. Jamie spots a napkin on the dancefloor and can’t suppress the thought of one of the idiots slipping on it like a cartoon banana peel.

Just as he’s considering getting up to get it, Tyler’s mom tiptoes in to awkwardly grab the napkin. She gives Jamie two thumbs up, which Jamie dutifully gives back. She smiles, toothily, just like Tyler, and walks back to her table.

That gives Jamie pause.

 _What_ is he seeing?

It’s freaking him out not knowing. Usually he doesn’t have to _try_ to know anything about his visions—he just does. 

Someone pulls a chair to sit next to him, but Jamie doesn’t acknowledge them. The waiter sets another glass of wine on the table, and the person snatches it away before Jamie even gets to look at it.

“Aw, salmon’s good, bro. All moist and stuff, just the way you like it.” Tyler says, and downs the glass in one gulp. Jamie’s hands ball into fists.

“That was mine.” He says.

“ _Shucks_.” Tyler mumbles. He’s drunk. “It’s my day, baby. I’m the king of the world, and the king gets to drink whatever he wants.”

Oh. It’s not just _a_ wedding, it’s...

Shit. No. _No_. He doesn’t want to see _this_.

“Sure.” Jamie calmly says. He’s still staring straight ahead. Half a minute passes in complete silence. Celine Dion’s over, and the previous noise has given place to soft, mellow Drake. Some couples make their way to the middle of the dancefloor, swaying together with the beat. 

The old lady clears her throat and awkwardly gets up, clutching her purse firmly to her chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

“By all means, aunt Jennice.” Tyler spits. He sounds pissed off. “Hey, my wife’s in there, too. Tell her I had the bathroom window taped shut, eh? No escape. Not yet.” He burps. “’Scuse me”

Aunt Jennice laughs nervously. The hysteric tone of her laughter would be funny if the mood wasn’t so tense. The second aunt Jennice turns her back to them, Jamie braces for impact.

“Okay, _fuck_ this. I can deal with this shit any other time, but today? Can you at least look at me? _Once_? I’m trying here—”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” Jamie interrupts, and steels his expression before finally turning his head. Tyler’s glaring. His eyes are glazed over. His shirt’s already unbuttoned, its sleeves messily rolled up to his elbows.

Jamie still feels it, even now. The same heat in his gut. The same violent, all-consuming desire to kiss him, pull him close and breathe him in. That feeling never changes. It’s the same thing he felt at that gas station, with the other Tyler.

Except while this feeling is wrapped around hurt, that feeling was wrapped around guilt.

None of it is ever nice.

He can’t remember the last time he had this much self-awareness during a vision. He’s thinking too much. It’s weird. He doesn’t know where the other Jamie’s emotions end and his own begin.

“Look, ‘m just saying,” Tyler mumbles, voice lower. He leans forward and rests his arm behind Jamie’s chair. His breath stinks of wine. “ _I’m_ the one who was supposed to put up walls and shit. And I didn’t do it. So like, cut it out.”

Jamie looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. He doesn’t think that’s supposed to happen in this Universe. He thinks that might be his fault.

He wants this vision to end.

Right now.

“Ja _mie_ ” Tyler whines. “It’s my fucking wedding day. I’m—” Whatever he meant to say burns out. Jamie risks a glance, and finds him staring off at nothing. “I’m married.”

“You are.” Jamie confirms, and tries to smile. It’s too painful, so he drops it. He takes a deep breath, and adds, “Congratulations, bud.” It makes Tyler’s face open up like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Jamie still can’t smile back, but hell if that doesn’t make his heart melt.

“Thank you. Thanks, uh, for coming. Means a lot to me.”

Jamie swallows. “I know.”

“’Still wish you’d have come to my stag, but nothing’s perfect, right?”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Jamie jokes, and then they both seem to realize what he implied, and widen their eyes at each other like deer in the headlights. “Um. You know, life’s not perfect. Philosophy and—stuff.”

“Stuff.” Tyler repeats, and laughs. The arm around Jamie’s chair officially goes around Jamie’s shoulders, and he squeezes it hard enough to make Jamie hunch over a little. “’m serious, though. I’m happy you’re here. Real happy.”

“Sorry about Jordie.” Jamie mumbles. He doesn’t know why, but now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t think Jordie’s here. Tyler shrugs.

“Ah ’s fine. He thinks I broke your heart or whatever. We’re both grown men, like, you’re not like that.”

 _Fuck you_ , Jamie wants to say, but mimics Tyler’s shrugging.

The ballroom door opens and the bride walks in, followed by a platoon of bridesmaids. Jamie doesn’t know a single thing about her. She doesn’t look for Tyler, which Jamie finds a little weird, but he also knows better than to comment on it. He watches her sit at her table, next to Tyler’s mom. They don’t talk to each other.

This entire vision is weird. 

He looks back at Tyler. Tyler’s smiling at him. His hand drags across Jamie’s chest, and stops just below his ribs. “Nice fit, by the way.”

If this were his own life, Jamie would’ve snapped by now. He doesn’t understand why Jamie’s here, why he’d ever subject himself to this. “Thanks.” Jamie breathes out, and yanks himself out of Tyler’s hold. “I need to stretch my legs.” He adds, and gets up.

“Oh, you wanna dance?”

Jamie groans. “No, Segs, I don’t want to—go dance with your wife.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have spit out ‘wife’ like that. He turns around before he can see what kind of face Tyler’s pulling when he draws out a confused “Okay?”

No one pays Jamie any attention as he walks out of the room. He pushes past a big, wooden door into an empty corridor. The corridor leads to an exit to the garden, and Jamie crosses it without a second thought.

It’s a gloomy day outside.

There’s a couple of people smoking near the main entrance, but they can’t see Jamie from here. He hears excited barking to his left, and barely has time to shut the door behind him before he’s being violently jumped by Tyler’s dogs.

Their muddy paws scratch all over his suit, probably ruining it forever. Gerry succeeds in climbing over Cash to press a big wet kiss under Jamie’s chin. It makes Jamie laugh. He sits on the doorstep and equally distributes his petting. Marshall lays down by his side. His movements slower than his brothers’.

The ring pillow is still wrapped around his neck. Jamie has the sudden impulse to rip it out, but doesn’t. Instead, he rubs a thumb through the white hairs all over Marshal’s snot, and then behind his ears. “Good boy.” Cash sits down as well, but Gerry’s already bolted off to bark at a bird.

It’s weird they’re out here and not inside. They can be rowdy, but Tyler knows how to make them behave with a flick of his hand. 

A lot of things are weird.

Jamie lets Cash climb on his lap, even if half of his body doesn’t fit, and kisses the top of his head.

Familiar static pools between Jamie’s ears. _Finally_. _Thank God._ Jamie blinks, once, twice—

—And he’s sitting at his table, between Jordie and mom. His mom’s holding his hand, and Jordie’s bouncing his leg hard enough to knock it against Jamie’s every once in a while.

Their sister and her now-husband are trying to cut the cake, giggling like a couple of kids. Jen makes a joke about sweaty palms, and people laugh. Jamie closes his eyes and tries to do his breathing exercises as discretely as possible, which doesn’t work at all, so he gives up and tries rationalization instead.

He’s twenty four years old. He’s attending his sister’s wedding reception, in his parents’ backward. There are maybe fifty people here, and he knows every single one of them. He’s surrounded by people that love him.

Yesterday, Jamie told Jen he met Tyler, and his sister had shrugged and said, “So what? That doesn’t mean bananas, Fats. This is your life. You decide how you live it.”

That was the end of it.

They’d spent the rest of the night huddled together on the couch, giggling over Jenny’s embarrassing bachelorette party pictures and throwing popcorn at Jordie while he played FIFA.

This is _Jamie’s_ life. Tyler doesn’t have to hurt him here. It’s not _Segs_ , it’s Tyler, and Tyler is just someone Jamie stumbled upon at a gas station.

“Uh, who’s Magic Wheels Rads? Is this a gay scene thing? Are you finally on the gay scene?” Jordie asks, and Jamie opens his eyes to find him holding his phone, which is vibrating furiously. Jamie snatches it out of his hand and glares.

“No—shut _up_ , asshole.”

Jordie holds his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Language.” Mom quips. “And no phone calls, c'mon. Not unless it’s urgent.”

“I know, sorry.” Jamie hits the volume down button to stop the vibrating. Whatever it is, it can’t be urgent. He doesn’t think his _car rental_ would have urgent matters to treat with him. He puts his phone in his pocket.

Jen and Dave proudly lift the pile of cake they chomped off, and people whistle and clap. It’s probably the worst cut slice of cake Jamie’s ever seen.

“That’s gotta be the worst fucking slice of cake I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jordie says, not lowering his voice at all, and mom reaches behind Jamie to swat him in the back of the head.

“Shut up, oh my God!” Jen yells. “You’re such a dick!”

“J— _Jenny_!” Mom stutters. Jamie and Dave share a look and shrug. Jamie’s phone starts vibrating, again, and this time Jamie doesn’t even look at it when he rejects the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i pinky promise theyll interact for realsies next chap. please bear with me.  
> I'm a scriptwriter not a novel writer. i'm trying to write a story and not a sequence of scenes but it's kind of hard for me to not get all cinematic and shit so im sorry about that lol. i hope im successfully escalating things tho?  
> (its so funny to me how tyler's chapters are always like, stuff happening!!!!!!! one liners!!!!!! gay!!!!! and jamie's are like slow emo walk under the moonlight through the field of angst. im awful at this)  
> ~~anyway,,, as ALWAYS tysm for all the love and kind words!!! if you have suggestions, hot takes, or just want to scream at me, don't hesitate type it out. really helps.  
> unnecessary fic playlist: https://8tracks.com/ishybishy/lays
> 
> love to all xx


	7. Chili

It’s five thirty in the afternoon but the sky’s already getting darker. Tyler swerves past traffic like a madman, which—he probably is one. His bike tilts dangerously every time he speeds past another car. Someone honks at him, and Tyler honks back.

Now, he’s done some stupid shit before in his life. He dropped out of community college. One time he swallowed a cigarette. His first _I love you_ was to a dude who didn’t even tell him he was enlisting and disappeared without as much as a text. He let someone in skinny jeans convince him the yacht they were breaking into was his. He got arrested.

Those last two are related, but still.

When Tyler does something stupid, he’s aware that it’s stupid, on some level, even as he goes through with it.

This doesn’t _just_ feel stupid. This feels stupid and also like he has to do it for the sake of the last shred of self-respect he owns.

Plus, it was just so fucking _easy_.

Rads practically offered to drive Tyler to Jamie’s house himself. Tyler didn’t even have to lie to get an address. Rads had instantly convinced himself he was part of a Sad Gay Cinema storyline and was meant to help Tyler confront his former lover, lost to an unfulfilling life of forced heterosexual marriage.

Those were his words, not Tyler’s. Rads seemed nice.

Tyler turns left and into Jamie’s street.

This area is populated mostly by young people and retirees. The walls are covered in graffiti and the garbage hasn’t been collected in what seem like days. Cigarette butts and empty take out containers drift through the wind. As Tyler looks around, he realizes this place is not much different than his own block, even though he lives in other side of town.

The white van is nowhere to be found. Something tells Tyler Jamie’s not home, but the same something adds it’s still worth a shot.

He squeezes in his bike between two parked cars and barely sets the kickstand on the ground before he’s jumping off his seat and yanking out his helmet. He’s angry. Almost too angry. He’s angry at Jamie, for getting married, and he’s angry at himself, for caring. Still, the heart wants what it wants, and Tyler’s heart wants fucking answers. How did Jamie know him? Why did Jamie kiss him? Why did Jamie run away? Why would he get married if Tyler just found him?

A group of girls quickly walk past him, and Tyler realizes he’s been standing by his bike steaming for a good two minutes. He blinks, and tries to swallow down the irrational urge to scream. He puts his helmet under his arm and stomps towards the door marked 14, revising his plan in his head.

‘Plan’ as in, ringing the doorbell until someone answers and then making a scene. It’s great. It’ll definitely work.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and Tyler takes a moment to cringe at the amount of notifications he’s ignored all day. He puffs out a breath of air, and presses the button for 1C. Twice. And one more time, just to be sure.

Then, he waits.

Waits.

Okay, maybe he rings it once more. And again—

“Jesus fuck, _what_?” Comes a disgruntled, decidedly not Jamie’s male voice. Tyler thinks he might actually cry.

“Are you his fucking husband?” He yells into the speaker. A woman walking by gives him a weird look and Tyler flips her off. There’s a lot of static coming off the speaker, like the guy put a hand on the microphone. Then it clears.

“Whose husband? Are you Devin’s ex or something?”

 _What?_   “Who the fuck is _Devin_?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m—” Tyler clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair.

The guy clicks his tongue. “Ok, y’know what, go fuck yourself. Have a good—”

Tyler panics. “No, no, no, wait—Jamie! Does Jamie live here?”

A pause. “Depends. What do you want from him?”

 “I need to talk to him. I’m a friend, I’m—” Tyler goes to state his name, but then thinks better of it. Jamie didn’t call him _Tyler_ , after all, he called him “Segs. I’m Segs.” The pause is longer this time. Tyler counts his prayers.

“Did you just say _Segs_?” The guy asks. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore. He sounds excited.

“Uh, yeah?” Tyler confirms, carefully. And then adds, just for the sake of it, “Tyler, actually, but people call me—”

“Holy shit!” The guy interrupts, and then his voice fades away like he’s talking to someone else. “Dev, Dev, it’s fucking—” The audio is abruptly cut off and the door buzzes open.

Okay. _What the fuck._ Tyler walks inside the building, holding onto his helmet a little tighter. He decides to take the stairs, because it’s just one flight and it gives him time to take out his phone and put Stephen’s number on the screen.

If this were a suspense movie, this is where the audience would be screaming at Tyler to quit being a dumbass and turn the fuck around. Curiosity killed the cat, and Tyler might not last much longer. His nose twitches, and he takes a sniff.

Chili? Smells like chili. The smell intensifies as he reaches the first floor. 1C’s door is already open, and a huge guy is leaning against it, scrolling through his phone. They’re definitely cooking chili in there.  

“Uh, yo?”

The guy looks up from his phone and his face breaks into a huge smile. “Yo! Segs?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah. Nice to meet you—”

“Ritchie. Me and Jamie share the house.” Ritchie holds out a hand and slaps it against Tyler’s hesitant one. Tyler’s ears burn a little when he’s given the most obvious fucking once over in the history of once overs.

When he notices Tyler’s discomfort, Ritchie rolls his eyes. “Not my department. Chill.” He turns Tyler’s wrist around and starts actually fucking examining the palm of his hand. Tyler considers kicking the dude in the balls and just bolting, but curiosity gets the best of him, again.

This is too fucking crazy to be real.  “So, Jamie has mentioned me before?”

“You could say that.” Ritchie says distractedly, and traces a line on Tyler’s hand. It tickles. “Damn, this is _insane_.”

A shorter guy wearing an apron appears from behind him, holding a wooden spoon. “Rich, don’t do the hand th—he’s doing the hand thing.” He gives Tyler an apologetic look. “Sorry, it’s his thing. I’m Devin, by the way. I feed them.”

Tyler opens his mouth to say something polite but Ritchie yanks on his wrist to show Devin the palm of his hand. The look on his face is almost maniac. “Look, it’s the exact same line as Jamie’s. Like, _exact_ same line. Do you know how insane that is?”

“Sure, I know how insane that is.” Devin quips. He shrugs at Tyler and goes back inside.

Ritchie rolls his eyes and finally let’s go off Tyler’s hand. “Don’t mind him.” He pauses. “You’re _Segs_.” The way he pronounces _Segs_ makes it seem like it’s a lot more than a simple nickname. “Finally decided to show up, uh?”

“I—what?”

“So, who are you? Ex? Childhood sweetheart? Estranged platonic acquaintance?”

Again, _what the fuck?_

“Uh.” Tyler drawls, and then mentally smacks himself and says “I mean, yeah. Estranged acq—aquan—the last one.” The gears start turning in his head and Tyler switches into what his mom calls  _Deviant Mode_. “I was gonna surprise Jamie at the wedding, but I think I got the wrong address.”

“Uh, no shit.” Ritchie says, and laughs. “Were you going to crash it?”

Tyler fakes a chuckle. “K—kind of.”

“That’s tough.” Ritchie checks the watch on his wrist. “Definitely won’t make it in time, now.”

“That’s fine.” Tyler murmurs. “I just wanted to see him.”

Ritchie’s smile falls. “Yeah.”

Devin appears again, this time holding a knife. Tyler hopes to God the red substance on it is from cutting really ripe tomatoes. “Peppers or no peppers?”

“Peppers make it betters, bro. I’m hurt you gotta ask.” Ritchie murmurs. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he turns to Tyler. “You should have dinner with us!”

That makes both Tyler and Devin frown. “No, thanks, man, I gotta—” Tyler starts, but Ritchie shushes him. It’s so unexpected Tyler actually shuts up.

“ _Rich_ ” Devin mutters, but Ritchie shushes him as well.

“It’s _Segs_.” He says, grinning, like that explains everything. His arm goes around Tyler’s shoulders, and Tyler feels like a lamb being bros with a wolf. “Dude, I don’t even care if Jamie cuts my fucking balls off for this, you’re having chili night with us. Devin’s like, a proper chef, you’ll never have this chance ever again.”

The proper chef sighs. Tyler bites his lip.

“ _Ple_ ase.” Ritchie begs. “It’ll be fun! Unless you had other plans, bro, f’course.”

Tyler looks down at his helmet.

God. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing anymore. He’s got work tomorrow at 10 am. He needs to call his mom and remind her to feed the fucking cats, which she’ll forget, and they will scratch Tyler for it because they’re assholes.

He has a life to return to. A life that existed before Jamie and will continue to exist after him. Jamie’s probably on his way to honeymooning in fucking Paris or some shit. Tyler needs to throw the towel and move on.

Still, that little voice won’t let him. The little something in the back of his head persists. It’s still there. _Stay. This isn’t over. Stay. Stay._

_Even if hurts, stay._

“You know what, fuck it. Sure, man.” Tyler says. Ritchie’s smile softens, and he and Devin exchange a series of very expressive looks. They have an entire argument with their eyebrows. It’s cute.

Whatever it was about, Ritchie won it.

“We also have tequila.” Devin says, and holds the door open. Maybe they’ll become more talkative once they’re drunk. Ritchie seems like the type. And Tyler will finally get his answers, or just one. He’d settle for understanding 1 percent of what has happened in the past two days. Just 1.

So, Tyler has chili with a couple of strangers. What the fuck ever.

Jamie’s friends are inviting and warm and Tyler’s plan to get information backfires about thirty minutes after he crosses the door.

He and Ritchie quickly grow bored of watching Devin slice through onions in seconds and start passing the tequila bottle to each other. Tyler hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, which means he’s crying and oversharing before Devin’s even set the chili on the table. It’s fine, because Ritchie cries and overshares as well.

They don’t talk about Jamie at all. They don’t have to. Tyler keeps having to remind himself to bring it up because there’s always something else to talk about. Tyler’s multiple gay bar bans. Dev’s new restaurant. Ritchie’s underground fighting career and palmistry interest (“obsession”, Dev corrects.). He gets along with them like a house on fire.

The food is amazing, the tequila is effective. Tyler has friends, people he goes out with, but it’s never like this.

Suddenly it’s 2 am, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

“Man, I wish Bish and Rads were here. And Stephen, too.” Tyler says, out of nowhere, after they’ve moved from the kitchen to the couch in the living room. Ritchie’s put on _Gladiator_. No one is watching.

“Me too.” Ritchie agrees, then blinks. “Wait, I don’t know those bros.”

Dev hiccups a laugh and Tyler snorts. “They’re—bros. They’d fit here, I think.”

“Jamie, too.” Ritchie adds, and yelps when Dev swats him in the arm.

“Jamie, too.” Tyler repeats, voice breathy. He sits up from where he’s draped over the couch’s armrest. The motion makes his head swim. “You said we have the same lines.” He drunkenly pokes at his own hand, trying to imitate what Ritchie did. 

“Yeah, it’s like, unreal. Same life lines, same fate lines, same love—”

Dev swats him on the arm, again. “I will pay you actual money if you go one week without talking about this crap.”

“Okay, first of all, Chiromancy isn’t _crap_ , and fuck you for disrespecting Indian _and_ Chinese culture. Second of all, how much money are we talking about?”

It aches to watch them bicker. They have the sort of ease and familiarity that reminds you of how alone you are. Dev’s practically sitting on Ritchie’s lap. Although they’re not together, not as far as Tyler can tell, they care for each other.

Tyler decides he needs to pee, even though he doesn’t. “I’m going to pee.” He announces solemnly.

Ritchie and Dev clap. Tyler gets up too fast, but manages to stand up straight, which has them clapping again. He does an exaggerate bow that he immediately regrets, and stumbles his way to the bathroom. Ritchie had told him before it was the second door on the left, so Tyler tries to head in that general direction. He blindly gropes the walls, and ends up finding a door and pushing it open.

Tyler slaps at the wall inside until he hits the switch. The room is filled with light. His eyes blink furiously against the sudden assault.

Well, it’s not the bathroom. It’s a bedroom.

God damn it.

Tyler groans and goes to slap the switch off, when he spots the empty bag of Lays on the desk, next to drawings of a piano. His heart starts beating faster. Slowly, he steps inside the room.

The bed is unmade, like it was left in a hurry. There’s framed pictures sitting on the side table.

One of them makes Tyler’s chest contract into a third of its size. Jamie’s at the beach, giving the camera an awkward thumbs up. He can’t be older than five years old. His face is rounder and his hair is longer but it’s undoubtedly him. There’s other two kids next to him, a boy and a girl. The girl is peace signing, the boy is sticking out his tongue. They look so much alike they must be siblings.

A family.

Of course Jamie has a family. Tyler picks up the photo.

He thinks he hears the front door open and close, but he doesn’t care.

He sits at the edge of the bed, and then lets his back fall on the mattress with a loud creak.

The bed smells like Jamie did. The sheets are soft like Jamie’s mouth. The mattress is strong like Jamie’s hands. Tyler holds the picture against his chest. He closes his eyes. Something akin to static grows between his ears. The heavy weight of comfort settles over him like a blanket. He turns his head to the side, and rubs his cheek against the cotton sheets.

There’s a lot of screaming going on in the living room. Tyler barely hears it. Hurried steps echo across the corridor, closer and closer. They stop in front of the bedroom’s door.

“Oh my God” Someone whispers.

Tyler lazily blinks his eyes open. Jamie’s standing there, angry, wide eyed, hair disheveled, in a tailored two piece suit. He looks like a prince.

“Woah.” Tyler breathes out. “Did I die?”

The last thing he sees is Jamie’s angry face turn red. Then, pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immmmmmmmmmmmm so tired work is h e l l fuck capitalism. i promised they'd ~interact for realsies~ not anything else you guys can't kill me. ritchie/shoresy was 100% necessary and self indugent. and i'll explain how they know of tyler's existence don't worry. next jamie pov will be so fun to write dsnsskdj im excited. thank you so mucho for the kindness in the last chapter, it really helped me write this one. i dont think ill be able to keep my 10 chapter limit but who the fuck cares right. you guys aren't here for stability. or good writing. jk (not). love you all. dont forget to bother me relentlessly with comments, suggestions, criticism!!! <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> idk  
> here's a mix: https://8tracks.com/ishybishy/lays


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